Flora threw hack her handsome head. "I don't war with children. It went
on just as I tell you till we left for our round of winter visits, which
have been very stupid and correct--till now."

I hardly caught the two last words, she spoke them so low. There was
silence for several minutes, and then Guy leaned back to address me.

"Do you remember Arthur Darrell, of Christchurch, Frank, the man that
used to speak at the Union, and was always raving about ebon locks and
dark eyes?"

"I remember him well. I have not seen him for years; but I heard he was
getting on well in the law."

"He'll have time to get tired of brunettes--if any one ever _does_ get
tired of them--before he comes back," said Guy. "He's just gone out to
try the Indian bar."

"What could have put such an idea into his head?" I asked, very
innocently.

"I can't say," was the reply; "men do take such curious fancies. It was
a sudden determination, I believe. The beauties of the Eastern
hemisphere began to develop themselves to his weak mind last summer
while he was down with his people in--Devonshire."

Involuntarily I looked at Miss Bellasys. She saw she was detected; but,
instead of betraying any embarrassment, she turned upon Guy a queer
little imploring look, not indicative in the least of shame or
repentance, but such as might be put on by one of those truly excellent